Maker Bless Us, Everyone!
by maximasdecimas
Summary: Winter falls on Kirkwall as Feastday approaches, Thedas's most anticipated holiday, and Merrill realises she has to get Hawke a present. But what could she possibly get that would be special enough? At a loss, Merrill visits each of the companions in turn for advice on her search for the perfect gift. Act 2, Merrill/F!Hawke, Oneshot. A companion piece to A World Without Shadows.


_**AUTHOR NOTE:**_

_This is a companion piece to A World Without Shadows._

_It's kind of a special little Christmas gift to everyone who is interested. Well, post-Christmas, but still. I just wanted to put a little more cheer into the mostly dark DA universe, so this is a silly but hopefully entertaining little story about Hawke, Merrill and the others celebrating Feastday, which I choose to believe is Thedas's equivalent of Christmas, roughly, though I am extremely vague about it because there doesn't seem to be any real mention of what Feastday is about in DA lore, at least as far as Google tells me. I wanted to put a Feastday chapter into my DA2 story, but then I decided not to dedicate a whole chapter to it when it didn't really advance the storyline in any way. So instead, I made it a oneshot. It will still fit with AWWS hopefully, but it is set a little forward from where I'm up to in the current timeline (which is only up to chapter 20 at the time of posting this). It doesn't cover any story stuff though, just a bit of fluff. This is set in Act 2 before any main quest stuff, which seemed the most happy time. And if you're wondering why I've been spending quality nerd time writing a Dragon Age themed Christmas-type fanfiction story instead of just doing Christmas things like relaxing and having other kinds of fun; that's a good question. And the answer is; shut up. No, just kidding, really I had the idea for it a week or so ago, I just didn't really get around to writing it then finishing it and then actually posting it (as I was also writing the next chapter of my other DA story), which is why it's late and not technically in time for Christmas, but still. I made an effort. Meh, the day after Boxing Day is close enough. Decorations are still up as I post this, I maintain that counts!_

_Anyway, if you haven't read my other Dragon Age story, A World Without Shadows, then there may be some additions and references in here that you might not get (Feathers for example; if you know you'll know, if you don't you'll see), but you might enjoy it anyway, though really this is supposed to be a companion piece to that story. My version of the characters is still the same as AWWS, same Hawke, same Merrill, same everyone, only I thought I'd practice writing in third person again. If you've been reading my other DA story, this one will take place in Act 2 after Merrill and Hawke have started living together, and after Leandra is back from visiting her friend in Orlais, but before certain main quests involving her occur. Mostly it follows Merrill, but should include everyone important and fit with continuity and such, AWWS story-wise. It's not the best; it was very rushed and written quickly and remains extremely imperfect but remember, it's only for fun. Keeping that in mind, I hope you enjoy it a bit (whether you read it at Christmas or not)._

* * *

Maker Bless Us, Everyone!  
A Festive Feastday Tale

* * *

_"It's colder than a witch's teat out there, Seeker."_

_Cassandra Pentaghast, Seeker of Truth, Hero of Orlais, Right Hand of the Divine herself, rolled her golden eyes in exasperation as she turned slowly at the dwarf's wry tone, shooting him a weary glance._

_Varric Tethras, Merchant Prince, Spymaster, Storyteller Extraordinaire grinned at her irreverently from the high backed chair in which he was comfortably sprawled, gesturing with one gloved hand towards the unlit parlour fireplace of the empty mansion. "Chilly in here, too," he continued, raising an eyebrow at his interrogator. He raised his hands in a placatory gesture as her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not just referring to the company. Without a nice cheery fire in every room like the old days, this place is about as warm and comforting as you."_

_The Seeker shook her head. "Hardly the time for levity, Varric," she said, a tired sort of tolerance in her expression as she turned a half-hearted glare on the irrepressible dwarf._

_"Come now, Seeker," Varric said in mock reproof. "Winter is here. And, if I have been keeping accurate count of the days since you began interrogati- ah, since you first asked me to tell you the story of the Champion's many and varied exploits, I believe that tomorrow is Feastday. Which, if I recall correctly, is a time for joy, pranks, gifts, celebrating differences and drinking an entire barrel of ale in one sitting. And feasting, of course. What better time for levity could there be?"_

_"Perhaps a time when you are not under grave threat, should you fail to provide the answers I seek," Cassandra said, a small almost-smile belying the severity of her words. During long hours spent in extended questioning sessions with the Champion's former companion, the Seeker found she had started to develop a sort of... if not affection, then appreciation for the storytelling dwarf and his fanciful tales. Despite herself, she was even starting to like him. A little. Not that she would allow herself to show it, of course. Not much, at any rate. "I am growing weary of your stalling. Must you go into so much detail about every little insignificant quest the Champion ever embarked upon? Not to mention your apparent deep interest in her... personal affairs," the Seeker said, a slight grimace of discomfort twisting her full lips. "I do not know why you seem so fascinated in recounting their every romantic encounter in such detail, nor where you get such information to be so intimately descriptive. Or do you spend your time imagining your friends together?" She shook her head in disapproval. "I confess; I don't know which is worse. There is no need to tell me about all of the Champion's... exploits."_

_"I've never had any complaints," Varric said defensively, and then gave a small chuckle. "Well, except from Merrill and Hawke themselves, of course, but you can't please everyone. Besides, you told me you wanted to know everything. Or don't you remember?"_

_"I recall, yes," Cassandra confirmed, and then paused, raising a brow pointedly. "And I do wish to know everything. Everything of actual relevance."_

_Varric raised his shoulders in a shrug. "Well, without being entirely certain of what is useful to you, Seeker, I can't tell you what is relevant and what isn't."_

_The Seeker thought for a brief second and then gave a perfunctory nod, conceding him the point. "I suppose that is true. Perhaps it is just rather draining to hear it all." She turned away towards the open window in order to surreptitiously rub at her temples unobserved. "The Champion has done much. Her life is... a lot to take in. And a lot to believe sometimes. I mean, dragons, wyverns..." She glanced at him over her shoulder, brow arched doubtfully. "A griffon? Really? You are asking a lot to expect me to believe that, and yet why lie about it? Truly, this is all far more complicated than I expected."_

_"Indeed," Varric commiserated cunningly. "Perhaps you would like to take a small break? I wouldn't be offended if you wanted to play cards, or even take a nap, you know. You deserve a little time off."_

_Cassandra gave something almost like a chuckle. "A good try, dwarf. But I am not letting you out of this room until we are finished."_

_"Oh, I know Seeker. I merely meant to suggest a small change of pace," Varric said, smiling. "If you don't like my suggestions, then perhaps another tale? Something festive, to suit the change in season."_

_"What exactly do you have in mind?" the Seeker asked warily._

_The dwarven merchant prince spread his hands invitingly. "A lively Feastday tale to brighten the mood! Maker's breath, but you could use a bit more cheer, you know. At the very least, it wouldn't kill you to smile once in a while. Have you ever tried?"_

_Cassandra ignored his gentle barbs. "Feastday? I am not interested in child's tales, Varric, " she said, her heavily accented voice imbued with notes of stern caution warring with intrigue._

_"And I'm not in the business of lullabies and children's stories, Seeker," Varric replied. "Don't worry, this is still about the Champion. Well, about all of us, really. But it isn't really a part of Hawke's tale; at least, not in a way that can have any relevance, since it doesn't involve any earth-shaking matters or devious schemes. Just a nice Feastday tale about friends exchanging gifts." The blonde dwarf scratched thoughtfully at the stubble along his strong jaw. "If anything, it will give you the chance to rest that cunning mind of yours while you listen to a bit of light entertainment." He tilted his head at her, a speculative gleam in his eye. "It might even help you understand us all a little better. I imagine that could still be worth something to you. Interested?"_

_The Seeker thought it over. "Tell me, then," she said at last, folding her arms. "Why not?"_

_Varric smiled and leaned back in his chair, a faraway look coming into his eyes as he cast his thoughts back to a brighter time, one of relative contentment and plentiful companionship. And not just of the hired sort. "Alright then," he began, rubbing his hands together in anticipation of the tale he was about to share. "Best take a seat, Seeker, or at least lean against something. Might as well make yourself comfortable for this. You're going to love it, I promise you." He cleared his throat and began._

_"We begin our tale on a cold winter night in the City of Chains, in fair Hightown where Hawke, not yet the Champion, made her home. Tonight, in the hours of darkness before Feastday Eve, there were no urgent pleas for aid, no dangerous missions to undertake in the dark, no ambushes by slave hunters, highwaymen or Dog Lords. Not one person had petitioned the well-known Scion of the Amells for aid at all this night, but her sweet Dalish lover, Merrill of the Sabrae, had a very compelling request..."_

* * *

"Ma vhenan?"

Merrill beamed up at Hawke with eyes wide and bright enough to contain all the stars in the heavens, and a smile sweet warm enough to melt the coldest heart. "Would you kiss me, please?"

"Ma nuvenin, ma sa'lath," Hawke smiled back as she gently cupped the smooth cheek of her raven-haired little elf, leaning slowly in, drawing out the anticipation of the moment as long as she could before she let her lips find Merrill's and claim them. The young Dalish let her hands rest on Hawke's waist, smiling into her kiss as she pressed herself against her lover, their embrace becoming more passionate as they-

* * *

_"Varric!" the irritated Seeker interrupted, shooting a glare at the offending storyteller. "_Relevance!?_"_

_The dwarf shrugged, smiling mischievously. "What? Gotta give the people what they want, Seeker."_

_Cassandra gave him a pointed look, irritation in her fierce gold eyes. "I am the only one here."_

_"You're still a person, aren't you? With a beating heart and blood in your veins?" Varric inquired, raising his brows. "It's a little hard to notice under all that armour and self-righteousness, sure, but I can still tell."_

_The corners of the implacable Seeker's mouth twitched just a little. "Continue. But keep the romantic encounters and... entanglements... to a bare minimum, if you please." She held up a hand before he could speak. "No pun intended, dwarf, I assure you."_

_"As you say, Seeker," Varric chuckled quietly, inclining his head. "And as you wish."_

* * *

"That was..." Merrill cuddled into Hawke as they lay together in a glorious tangle of bare flesh and bed sheets, running her fingers gently through the beautiful human's lovely dark hair. "Oh... _wonderful_, ma vhenan."

"Mmmm..." Hawke agreed softly, stretching her body out luxuriously with a sigh of satisfaction. "It certainly was."

The little Dalish lifted her head and looked at her lover. "You sound sleepy," she informed her affectionately. "Are you tired now?"

Hawke turned her head, playfully nuzzling Merrill's nose. "More blissfully sated and content than tired, I would say."

Merrill giggled softly, admiring the soft feel of Hawke's hair as she let the silken strands slip through her fingers. "I suppose we should sleep, though," she mused quietly. "Or at least try to. Do we have any adventures planned for tomorrow?"

"Actually, no," the human apostate answered after a moment's thought. "A strange occurrence. Though I do need to go out and pick up a few things here and there. Ingredients and such," she added when the young elf tilted her head at her curiously.

"For potions and things?" Merrill wondered aloud.

Hawke shook her head. "No," she replied. "For the feast, actually. Bodahn has graciously agreed to let me help him out with all the meal preparations in the kitchen this year. And with all the extra guests we have this year, he's going to need it."

"The feast?" Merrill exclaimed in surprise. "Oh! Is it Feastday time already?"

"Yes," her amused lover replied patiently. "It's the day after tomorrow. Everyone is coming over for the noonday meal, remember?"

"Oh, yes! I knew they were coming of course, but I forgot why," the little elf said apologetically. "I very much enjoy Feastday though, usually. At least I have ever since I came to Kirkwall. Everyone always seems much happier on Feastday. It makes a nice change, really."

Hawke chuckled under her breath. "Dalish don't celebrate Feastday, I suppose?"

"No," Merrill replied with a small shake of her head. "The alienage elves always seem to celebrate it of course, but isn't it really more of a human thing? Or an Andrastian religious holiday, at least."

"Well, yes, for many people it is," Hawke replied after a little consideration. "But everyone can celebrate it without worrying too much about the religious aspects unless they want to." She lifted a hand, lazily conjuring a ball of heatless fire into her palm and rolling it dextrously in her fingers, making Merrill smile at her display of control and skill. "I, for example, am none too fond of the Chantry for various fairly obvious reasons, but I still love Feastday for the notion that it is that special time of year that brings family and friends together." She paused, banishing her idle spell. "And for the feast. And the presents. Though family and friends come first, of course; at least, that's what everyone is supposed to say out loud."

"What are the presents for, again?" Merrill asked, voice filled with an eagerly innocent curiosity that was unique to her alone. "I mean, bonded couples in the clan give gifts to each other to show their love and commitment, but that's all I know of it."

"It seems much the same principle, I think," Hawke mused, thinking it over. She'd had it explained to her by her parents, of course, but she had never had to explain it to someone herself. It required quite a bit more thinking that she would have... well, thought. "Gifts given on Feastday are supposed to show the ones you love how much you care about them, at least as far as I am concerned. Finding the perfect gift for someone is a way to show them what they mean to you, and how well you know them. If you do it right, it can be a wonderful act of love and friendship. Not everyone gives presents if they don't want to or can't afford it, of course, but well..." She shrugged a little. "I have the means, after all. And I've been feeling very much in the giving spirit of late. This year, I'm planning to give one to every one of our friends when they come here on Feastday, in fact."

The small elf looked up at her lover, eyes wide. "You have gifts for everyone?"

"Mm-hm," Hawke smiled. "Want to see?"

The tiny Dalish nodded eagerly, eyes bright with interest. Hawke got up from the bed and crossed to the chest on the other side of the room, walking slowly for Merrill's benefit, aware as she was of the elven woman's eyes on her as the firelight played over her naked body. She pulled a large cloth bag from within the chest and sat herself back down beside Merrill, turning the items out of the sack onto the bed between them.

Merrill gazed in amazement at the array of gifts before her. There were so many things! Bottles and trinkets and rather a lot of books; Hawke certainly must have put a lot of thought into getting gifts for everyone. Merrill was really very impressed. "Ooh, look at them all!" she cried delightedly. "Who is going to get what, ma vhenan?"

"Well," Hawke answered, glancing at her gifts and selecting a small book from the pile at random. She showed Merrill the cover. "This is for Fenris. I found it in one of the little market stores in Lowtown."

Merrill looked at the title. "_The Book of Shartan_?" she read aloud.

"Shartan was the elf who freed his fellow slaves in Tevinter and joined Andraste in her rebellion," Hawke explained. "I thought Fenris would like to learn more about him."

"I'm sure he would," Merrill nodded. "That's very thoughtful. I'm sure he'll appreciate it." _At least, I hope so, _she thought. _Sometimes there's just no telling what - or who - Fenris will like._ She ran her gaze over the other items on the bed, and smiled as her eye was caught by a particularly strange little object; a tiny model of a ship, somehow stuck inside a glass bottle! _How in the name of the Creators did someone manage to put it in there?_ Merrill wondered. Perhaps Hawke did it. She knew a lot of odd little spells and things, after all. It was fairly obvious who this particular gift was supposed to be for. "This is for Isabela?" Hawke nodded. "Oh, it's so lovely! I've never seen such a thing."

"I'm told it's a perfect replica of an Antivan frigate," Hawke informed her, pleased by Merrill's favourable reaction to the item. It boded well for Isabela's reception of it.

Merrill looked up at Hawke curiously. "How did it get inside the bottle?" she asked, and Hawke smiled.

"You don't want me to ruin the magic of it, do you?"

The large green eyes opened wide in childlike wonder. "It _is _magic, then? Was it a spell?"

Hawke shook her head gently. "No, I found it a little while ago, actually. I saw some being made in a shop once, though." She pointed to the boat inside the bottle. "See how slender the hull is?" she asked. Merrill looked, and nodded quietly, waiting in fascination for Hawke to continue in her explanation. "It's made to fit through the neck of the bottle. The masts are on tiny hinges and can be pulled up with strings once the ship is inside. Although I did see another fellow working there who was using long, tweezer-like tools to make a ship inside the bottle from scratch. I imagine that would cost a far sight more than the other sort." She examined the bottle, peering carefully at the ship within. "I think this one is the cheaper, hinged kind, come to think of it..."

"Well, it's still very impressive," the Dalish mage said happily, thinking of just how delighted her pirate friend would be with Hawke's gift, no matter what sort it was or where she had gotten it. Merrill had told Isabela Hawke would help get her a ship one day, and while this wasn't what she had meant exactly, it was still nice to be proven right sometimes. "And very clever! Isabela is just going to love it!" She picked up a little golden signet ring next, admiring the way the firelight played along the glinting metal band. "What about this pretty thing?"

"That's for Varric," Hawke told her, looking at it. "I was going to get him some of that Antivan brandy he's always going on about being much better than the 'weak-as-water stuff Corff has the audacity to call brandy and charge seven bits a mug for', but then I saw this in the markets. It has the Tethras family seal on it. I don't know how it came to be in the Lowtown stalls of all places, but I think Varric might appreciate having it back."

"I bet he would" Merrill agreed. "He'd certainly appreciate how unlikely it is that you would somehow accidentally manage to find one tiny lost ring, I'm certain. Maybe he could even put it in one of his stories." She touched the spine of another book that caught her eye. "_The Search for the True Prophet?_"

"Oh, that's for Anders," Hawke said, grinning. "It's an exploration of the possibility that Andraste wasn't imbued with so many miraculously god-like powers because she was the Maker's Chosen, but because she was actually an extremely powerful mage. It's very subversive and blasphemous; I thought he'd appreciate that. And it isn't a half bad theory, to be honest." A mischievous twinkle stole into the human's brilliant sapphire eyes. "I seriously considered giving it to Sebastian, but I think I'll just give him this Silver Sword of Mercy pendant instead. I don't really know him well enough yet to know what he would want, but I think he might like it. And I do owe him something for helping us out last week with that job at the Bone Pit, cleansing the mines. I think he may have found it rather less glorious than he expected when he decided to come with us." She giggled softly. "Or much less glorious than Varric made it sound when convincing him, at any rate. I think Varric just wanted to see how a prince would react when faced with rather a lot of giant spiders."

The elf laughed with her. "He reacted quite well, I thought. Although he did get a little upset that his nice shiny armour got all dirty and covered with... well, whatever it is that's inside spiders. Ugh." Merrill took her hand from the blasphemous book and picked up an intricately woven leather tie. "This is for Aveline, isn't it?"

"However did you guess?" Hawke smiled. "That, and this." She patted the cover of a particularly fat tome. "I thought she was due a new headband. It's been a while since she's bothered changing the ratty one she is currently sporting, after all, and I rather think it is my duty as a friend to intervene on her behalf. And the book... well, I just think she might get some use out if it."

"_Kindling the Flame; A Guide to Courtship in Kirkwall_," Merrill read, and then gave Hawke an inquisitive look. "Courtship? Why would Aveline like this, do you think? Not that I think it's a bad present, of course not, but-"

Hawke laughed quietly. "Well, let me put it this way. Have you ever seen Aveline look at Guardsman Donnic?"

Merrill nodded slowly. "Well, yes, but he's her guardsman, isn't he? She has to look at him sometimes, like when she's training him or ordering him about..." Hawke raised an elegant eyebrow, and Merrill caught on immediately, gasping in realisation. "Oh! Oh, you mean... really? Do you think she likes him?"

"I think she just might," Hawke replied, grinning, and then tilted her head thoughtfully to the side as a different thought hit her. "Either that or she suspects him of shirking his duty in some way. She might still find this useful eventually, though." Hawke opened the book to a random page. "_'The first thing necessary to acquire in order to facilitate the ideal romantic endeavour is three goats, and a sheaf of wheat...'_" she read, and laughed as she closed it quickly. "Hmm. Well, I _hope_ it's a courting book anyway. I suppose I probably should have read it myself first, but there's no time to change it now. Eh, at least she should like the headband. I hope."

"And this book?" Merrill asked, gently placing a hand on the black leather cover of a very grand, very impressive looking book, the title of which was printed in raised gold letters across the front. "_Lothering Heights," _she read._ "_Who is this for?"

"That's for Mother," Hawke answered, smiling. "It was one of the first proper copies the author created, with coloured illustrations and everything. It's one of her favourite books now. She says it reminds her of our old home."

"Oh, that's a wonderful thought, ma vhenan," Merrill smiled back. "Very sweet."

"Thank you. I think she'll like it." Hawke showed Merrill a large roll of parchment next. "This is a map of Ferelden, for Sandal to hang in his room."

"A reminder of home for him too, then. That's lovely, Hawke," Merrill said. "I know poor Sandal misses Ferelden dreadfully. So do I, sometimes. Kirkwall is... very different."

"I feel the same," Hawke agreed, smiling a little sadly. "But really, home is wherever you find it, with the people you care about by your side." Merrill beamed at her adoringly at that, causing Hawke to grin happily back at the sight. She fingered the last item on the bed; a flagon of ale in a carved stone flask. "Last but not least; some dwarven ale from Orzammar for Bodahn. And I'll give him a nice bonus as well. Feathers and the dog can have some nice juicy bones and things, and I'll just send Gamlen some money as a token."

"Well, what else would he want?" Merrill said wryly. "He'll appreciate that, I think, at least a bit."

"He certainly ought to," Hawke replied. "For the few hours before he spends it all at the Blooming Rose."

Merrill laughed quietly, looking over the presents one more time, and then looking back at Hawke, letting her eyes run appreciatively over her lover's exquisite naked form. "So that's everything, then? All the gifts?"

"That's everything." Hawke gathered up the items, and carefully placed them back in the chest then climbing back into bed, laying back against the pillows and reaching out for Merrill, who slipped comfortably into her embrace. "Well, except for my gift for you, but that isn't here. Not that I'd spoil the surprise by showing you now if I had it."

"You have a present for me too?" Merrill asked, a little taken aback. She should have expected this, knowing Hawke as she did, but somehow she just... hadn't.

"Of course I do," Hawke chuckled fondly. "I wasn't about to show it to you before Feastday, of course."

Merrill was silent for a moment. "Hawke..." she began softly, her voice apologetic and sad. "I don't have a gift for you. I'm sorry."

"Oh, Merrill," Hawke replied gently, running a tender hand over Merrill's silky hair. "That doesn't matter to me in the slightest. You don't have to get me a gift, love, I didn't expect anything."

"Well, nor did I, but you're getting me one anyway. I want to do the same!" Merrill protested. "I'm just... not sure how to go about it. I'm not really used to the whole... present-giving thing."

Hawke made a small noise at the back of her throat, almost one of displeasure. "I still can't believe no one ever gave you anything before," she said, an audible frown in her voice. "It really doesn't seem at all fair."

"It's just our way," Merrill explained. "I was given things among the clan, of course, just not what you would call presents. You know; just useful things like clothes, or books and scrolls from the Keeper, or staffs and tools and things from Master Ilen. And things like flowers and herbs for potion making. Oh, and food, of course. Sometimes Mahariel would collect blackberries if it was a day with little game, and she would give some to me. And she would sometimes gather ingredients for potions while she was out hunting as well."

"Potions ingredients?" Hawke asked.

"Like elfroot and ebrium, trilliums and winterberry, that sort of thing."

The human woman gave Merrill an odd look. "Mahariel... gave you flowers?"

Merrill nodded. "Yes, but they... they weren't presents, or anything. I needed them for my alchemy lessons," she replied, her leaf-green eyes wide and earnest. "She was just being kind, you know, collecting them for me. That's all."

Hawke bit back a smile, giving her sweetly innocent elf a gentle squeeze with the arm wrapped about her slender waist. "If you say so." _Despite how long it may have taken to draw Merrill's notice_, Hawke mused, _it seems at least her endearing obliviousness to the notion that anyone might find her attractive worked out in my favour, at least a little._Though if her suspicions about Mahariel's true motivations were correct, she couldn't help but feel badly for the poor Hero. She hoped that she had found love in her travels since; stronger, deeper, and most importantly, reciprocal. Someone like the Warden deserved such happiness.

Thinking of Merrill's unconsciousness regarding all attempts to flirt with her or win her affections inevitably led the Ferelden mage to think of her poor, dear, incorrigible little brother and she laughed quietly, caught up in fond reminiscence.

"What is it, ma vhenan?" Merrill asked. "Did I miss a joke again?"

"No, sweet. I was just thinking of Carver." Hawke chuckled again. "You know, I think that Feastday might have been one of the few times I ever saw him truly smile since we were children. Well, except sometimes when he was talking to you." She gave a slight smile, her voice a little sad but tinged with affection for her brother. "He was rather taken with you, actually."

Merrill blinked, trying to process what she had just heard. _He was... taken with me? What? Does... does that mean what I think it does? _"He was? Really?" She couldn't quite tell for certain, but she didn't think that Hawke was teasing her... She raised her head a little more to look into Hawke's face properly, frowning slightly suspiciously at her. "Are you sure?"

"Oh, yes. I'm sure," Hawke grinned, eyes glinting mischievously. "He kept trying to flirt with you, offering to buy you drinks and such, but you didn't notice."

_Well, of course I didn't, _Merrill thought to herself. _I would never have noticed Hawke doing it, either, if Isabela hadn't told me what to look for when someone was flirting._ She smiled wryly. "Well, that is not at all surprising, really."

"It certainly isn't," Hawke agreed, smiling wickedly back. "We Hawkes have excellent taste, after all."

It took a moment before Merrill realised what Hawke had said, exactly. "Oh, I didn't mean it like-"

"I know what you meant, love," Hawke reassured her quickly, laughing. "I was just teasing. It's still true, though." She gave another small laugh. "I remember being _consumed_ with jealousy every time I saw him try and talk to you, looking at you with his eyes all dark, and his voice all deep and throaty when he spoke. Not that he was ever much good at it. He may have been a good 'sworder'," Hawke said, smiling at Merrill fondly, 'but he was very clumsy with words, sadly. Quite fortunate for me, though, really."

_I...I never saw. Never knew._ Merrill could hardly wrap her mind around it. Carver... flirting with her? Or trying to, anyway. And Hawke... jealous. Actually jealous of her brother, over Merrill. _And there I was; tripping blindly along as usual, completely oblivious to both of them._ Merrill shook her head at herself a little, cuddling into her soulmate's side. _I'm certainly not oblivious to her anymore, am I? Poor Carver, though._

"You needn't have worried, Hawke. I never realised," the little elf told the human mage quietly. "And even if I had... it wouldn't have mattered. Your brother was a fine young man, to be sure, but... I've never loved anyone but you, ma vhenan."

"Nor I you," Hawke answered, a smile in her voice as her lips brushed Merrill's temple.

Merrill looked into her lover's glorious azure eyes and smiled back, though on the inside she was fretting quietly to herself. Even if Hawke said she didn't want anything, Merrill still wanted to give her _something_. She wasn't used to receiving gifts, but she'd never really given one before either. And if anyone truly deserved to be given presents, it was her beautiful, wonderful Hawke. "What would you like, though, Hawke? Tell me anything and I'll get it for you."

"You are a gift to me, remember?" Hawke answered, her voice soft and filled with sincerity. "Always. Merrill... the only thing I want for Feastday is you. I don't need anything more."

_She just wants... me? What does she mean? She already has me, _Merrill thought to herself. _Or does she... does she mean that she... _wants _me... for Feastday? In... that way? It seems like that's what she means. It sounds quite nice, actually. _She smiled to herself. _Well, then, I think I should make it something extra-special... but... what? _Isabela could help, she was certain of it. Maybe she could see her tomorrow... although she would have to come up with a reason to go and see Isabela by herself, of course. It would be much less of a surprise for Hawke if Merrill asked Isabela about it in front of her, after all, wouldn't it? And of course it would be much more, well... awkward.

Hawke gave a soft sigh beside her, the arm encircling Merrill losing its tension a little as her spirit drifted into the Fade. Merrill smiled as she let her head rest on Hawke's shoulder and closed her eyes, breathing deeply as she too settled herself to sleep and join her love in the Beyond. Maybe Hawke wouldn't mind so much if Merrill didn't come with her to get her ingredients and things. And if not, well, there was no point in worrying about it now, in any case. She would just have to see if she could... could think of something...

... tomorrow...

* * *

"Well, I'd best get going to the market," Hawke said as she rose from the breakfast table. She smiled at Merrill as the other made to rise. "You don't have to come with me if you'd rather not, love. In fact, it might be better if I went out alone."

Merrill blinked for a moment, surprised at Hawke's suggestion. It was unexpected, but still very convenient; now she wouldn't have to tell Hawke she wasn't going to come with her. Which was good, really, because try as she might; she hadn't been able to think of a reason she wouldn't want to come along. "Oh, no, that's alright, ma vhenan," the Dalish mage assured Hawke quickly, and then decided that she might have sounded a bit too eager to agree. She hurriedly cast about for something else to say so that Hawke didn't get suspicious. "It's just ingredients and things, after all, isn't it? Not exactly something you'd need my help with."

"Well, that is true, as much as I'd enjoy your company regardless of course. But really it's just that I don't actually have your gift here, yet," Hawke explained apologetically. "I need to pick it up from... somewhere. And, well, if you came with me, you would see it, and that would ruin the surprise a little, don't you think?"

"I suppose it would at that," Merrill agreed. "You're right, ma vhenan. I'd much rather be surprised."

Hawke smiled, and bent down to Merrill, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. "I'll see you later then, love," she said, and left as Bodahn made his way into the room, busying himself in cleaning up the table. Merrill attempted to help him as usual, eventually giving in to his protests and letting him do it himself. At least it seemed to make him happy, strange as that may have seemed. She didn't mind so much this morning, though, because really there was no knowing how long it might take her to find the perfect gift for Hawke, and she had better get going if she wanted to get to Lowtown before mid-morning. Isabela always knew so much about everything, she had to be able to help her, she just had to! She should be awake by now...

Merrill paused just as she reached the front parlour and bit her lip, thinking. But then, if she was going to go to ask Isabela about what sort of... present... to give Hawke for Feastday, then shouldn't she bring Isabela a gift too? And of course, if she got Isabela a gift, then she probably should find gifts for everyone else as well. The last thing she wanted to do was make any one of her friends or even Fenris feel left out. She knew too well how that felt, after all...

A loud cheep of excitement sounded from the little basket next to the sleeping mabari by the fire as its tiny feathered occupant registered the presence of his favourite person in the entire world. Feathers leaped out of his bed and pranced over to Merrill, trilling a happy little greeting as she scooped him into her arms. He purred softly, rubbing his head against her cheek, and she smiled, cuddling him. "Hello, little fellow. I don't suppose you know what I should get for everyone, do you?" He blinked up at her, and then yawned widely and began combing the fur on his front paw with his little beak, nibbling fastidiously between his toes. "I didn't think so," she giggled softly. "Ah, well."

She heard the front door open and turned at the sound, just as Leandra came in from her morning walk about the square, sweeping down the hallway into the parlour with effortless regal elegance, lovely in purple velvet. Looking at Hawke's mother, Merrill could see where her daughter got her unconscious grace from. Sometimes she thought that Leandra could be a queen, if she put her mind to it. She certainly had the right air for it, after all. And the right taste in clothing.

"Hello, Merrill, darling," Leandra said, smiling as she crossed the room. Feathers chirped at her, and she scratched him under the chin. "And of course hello to you too, dear little thing."

"Did you have a nice walk, Leandra?" Merrill asked, earning herself a gentle smile.

"Oh, it was just lovely," Leandra replied enthusiastically, slipping her scarf from around her neck and folding it neatly. "A bit brisk, but that's to be expected. And the lavender in the Ahrenberg's front garden is just beautiful. Lavender is my favourite flower, you know." She glanced down at her dress, and chuckled. "And my favourite colour. It puts me in mind of Ferelden, especially on Feastday."

"About that," Merrill said, a sudden unexpected bout of bashfulness speeding up her words into a nervous jumble. "I was meaning to go out today and um, see if I can find... something... for Hawke."

"Ah," Leandra said with a knowing nod. "And you wanted to ask me for some suggestions?"

_Oh, Creators, no!_ Merrill cringed inwardly. She knew Leandra meant suggestions for normal presents, but Merrill had a very different sort of gift in mind for Hawke, and well, she couldn't ask her mother about... _that..._ she just couldn't. "Oh..." she stammered, unable to think of a way to refuse without telling Leandra why. "Well... I, um..."

"Sweetheart, whatever you give my daughter, she will think it is just wonderful," Leandra told her gently, smiling. "As long as you are the one giving it to her. I doubt if you could ever fail to please her."

Merrill couldn't help it. She blushed. Deeply.

Feathers very helpfully chose that moment to reach up and bat playfully at the braid dangling down beside Merrill's left ear, recalling her to his adorably fluffy presence. Her mind seized upon a reasonable request she could provide Leandra with. "Actually, I already have a gift in mind," she told the older human woman. "Sort of, anyway. I was just going to head down to Lowtown."

"To visit the markets?" Leandra asked, smiling at the small griffon chick's antics as he caught the end of Merrill's braid between his paws and tugged happily at the ends with his beak.

_Well, I would be passing through the markets on my way to the Hanged Man,_ Merrill thought. _And probably I should go there anyway to look for gifts for everyone else. So it wouldn't exactly be a lie to say that's where I am going, instead of telling her all about... what I want to ask Isabela. Mythal'enaste, I don't even want to think about what she would say if I told her about that! _"Yes," Merrill answered, and gently pried Feathers from the end of her braid. "So I wanted to ask if maybe you could look after this little troublemaker for the day? If you don't mind, that is."

"Of course that's alright, love," Leandra told her, holding out her hands for the small furry creature of legend, who gave her a considering look and then allowed her to take him from Merrill's arms. "You take your time." She rubbed Feathers behind his little ears and gave a small chuckle as she headed out of the room. "This would be a good opportunity for a certain little boy to have a bath, I think..."

The small elf bit back a smile as Feathers turned and shot a horrified look at Merrill over Leandra's shoulder as she stepped out into the hallway and headed in the direction of the kitchens. He would be alright, after all, and it wouldn't hurt him to have a nice shiny clean coat for Feastday, really. And he was starting to get just a little dirty. And smell, a bit. A bath for Feathers would be a good thing for all of them for that reason alone, to be honest.

Merrill headed for the entranceway, pausing to slip on a small pair of soft leather shoes Hawke had given her to protect her feet from the cold paving stones, and then she headed out into the bright winter morning. She would stop at the alienage first to see if anything she still had left in her home might make a nice gift for someone, and then perhaps have a quick look in the markets, just to see what else she could find, and _then_ she could go and talk to Isabela. Merrill sighed a little as she turned the corner, heading for the bridge down into Lowtown, thinking of all the extra presents she would have to come up with now. Would she even have time to wrap them? Probably not...

This was going to be even more complicated than she thought.

* * *

Merrill couldn't see Isabela anywhere in the main hall of the Hanged Man. Which was where she always was, usually, so that was odd. The small elf thought for a moment, and then decided she should check Isabela's rooms just in case she was still there, although what Isabela usually used her rooms for was just sleeping and... other things... So if she was there, it would probably be with... someone... and Merrill really didn't want to walk in on... that. But then, perhaps she was at the markets, at one of those mysterious hat shops she kept talking about or something. Maybe Merrill could wait outside her rooms, or maybe even inside if the pirate queen had left her door unlocked, which she often did. Everything she kept that was of any real value was small so that she could carry it with her; she'd told Merrill that once. Leaving expensive things in your rooms was just foolishness, especially when the Hanged Man's locks weren't any trouble for any thief with even a modicum of lockpicking talent. And Isabela should know. She was something of an expert at thiefiness, after all.

Merrill padded down the badly lit hallway, stepping carefully to one side to avoid bumping into the strange, talkative man who rambled even more than she did, but only to himself, and only about the strangest things. Varric called him a philosopher. Isabela called him mad as a magister. Merrill hated to think it, but she was fairly certain Isabela had the right of it. She reached Isabela's door and listened carefully for a moment for any tell-tale... sounds, (since Isabela was never one to be quiet, Merrill was sure) and then knocked tentatively when she heard only silence. She knocked louder after a few moments more and then pushed at the door, which opened easily. The room was empty; Isabela wasn't there. Merrill wavered on the threshold, and then stepped inside, deciding to wait for her friend to come back. Isabela wouldn't mind if she stayed in her rooms, especially not once Merrill told her what she wanted. She seemed to very much enjoy telling her about such things, after all, and she did say Merrill was always welcome. Not to mention that she kept inviting her to come and look at her 'special' book collection...

Merrill looked thoughtfully at the well-stocked bookshelf in the corner of Isabela's main room. She would still very much like Isabela's input, of course, but surely there was no harm in trying to look for something... something nice to do for Hawke herself. She deliberated for a moment, then shut the door quietly behind her and crossed to the bookshelf, pulling out a tome at random and opening it in the middle.

The script was elaborate and flowery, written in an unfamiliar language. _Is this Orlesian?_ Merrill wondered to herself. It looked Orlesian. Even their writing was fancy. She couldn't speak Orlesian, much less read it, but what she was looking at seemed to be a list of instructions for something. Merrill frowned curiously, trying to make it out. _What in the Creator's name is a 'porte de derrière surprise'?_ She turned the page, and felt her mouth drop open at the detailed illustration on the other side. "Oh... Oh, Mythal'enaste!" she exclaimed, eyes wide as she stared at the dirty picture. The_ very_ dirty picture... _I think I'd be best to just... put that one back..._

"Kitten?"

Merrill squeaked in surprise and dropped the book, spinning on her heel to face a grinning Isabela. "Looking for me?" The Pirate Queen of the Eastern Seas crossed her arms and leaned nonchalantly against the splintery doorframe of her suite as she took in the scene, gold eyes lingering on the book open lying at Merrill's small feet. "Or are you after a little... inspiration?"

"Yes- I mean no, I... I mean... well I was... I-I was looking for you," Merrill managed to stammer out, snatching up the book from the floor and putting it hastily back on the shelf. She rubbed a hand nervously through her hair. "I wanted to ask you about... something."

"Mmm?" Isabela prompted when no further information was forthcoming. "What sort of something?"

Merrill bit her lip. _Elgar'nan_! This really had not started the way she had hoped. But then, how often did that actually happen? She ought to be more used to this sort of thing by now. "Well... it's just that... it's Feastday soon, and Hawke was telling me about gifts, and _she_ has a gift for _me_, but I don't... I didn't get one for her, I didn't know I was supposed to," Merrill began hurriedly, and then rushed to correct herself. "Well, she said I didn't have to, but I wanted to anyway, and when I asked her what she wanted she told me all she wants is... well, me. S-so..." The shy elf blushed deeply crimson, and looked down at her bare toes, wriggling them a little. "I thought... maybe you could help me... um... find something I could... could do for Hawke..." she whispered bashfully. "Something that would impress her, a-and... make it very special and exciting when we... you know. F-for Feastday."

"Ah, I see," Isabela chuckled to herself, grinning fondly at her little kitten. Merrill really was such a darling little creature, so preciously innocent and tiny and vulnerable, but somehow in possession of an undeniable air of fierce, quiet inner strength and power. It was such a potent combination; much more so than Merrill ever suspected about herself. In some ways, it was even a little... awe inspiring. And incredibly alluring. Isabela found herself constantly torn between wanting to protect her little kitten from every possible form of harm, and kissing her sweet little mouth. Which she would never do, of course, and not just because of Hawke; what someone like Merrill needed was love of the heart, not lusts of the flesh. At least not lust alone, which was all Isabela believed she was capable of. And of course she'd never do anything to jeopardise her friendship with either of them. But it didn't change the fact that the little elven mage was compellingly attractive, even if she didn't know it. Isabela felt somewhat righteously indignant that more people did not appreciate Merrill more, to the point where she often wanted to murder anyone who even made so much as a hurtful offhand comment about the small Dalish pariah, just to teach them a lesson. The permanent sort, true, but it would certainly make anyone else think twice before doing it again. She felt that in being a friend to someone as sweet and good as Merrill, in protecting the little elf, keeping her safe... perhaps in some small way she could be granted a measure of redemption for past... failures. Unspeakable wrongs. Innocent lives taken in the name of survival. The life of a pirate was not easy and could never be blameless, she knew that, but such things that still kept her awake at night, and not even the finest whisky or the attentions of a good whore could entirely erase them from her mind. But spending time with Merrill made them retreat far back inside her soul. That Merrill felt that the Rivaini pirate was such a good friend to her, that she trusted her enough to come to her for advice on something so personal and sensitive meant the world to Isabela.

Not that she would ever let on, of course.

"Well, as thrilled as I would be to help you out with that one, sweetness," Isabela began, smiling affectionately at Merrill, "I don't think that's really what Hawke meant."

Merrill looked uncertain. "It isn't? What did she mean, then?"

"She meant it doesn't matter to her if you give her a gift or not, kitten," Isabela told her patiently. "Because she loves you, and that's enough." She shrugged a little. "Or something like that."

The elven girl thought about this for a moment. "Well, that sounds right. But I want to give her something anyway," she decided. "What should I get her?"

Isabela shook her head. "I'm afraid I've no idea. I'm sorry, kitten. Perhaps ask Varric, he's from the Merchant Guild after all. They like trading, and merchandise and such. You'd think he'd know a thing or two about Feastday gifts. And he may deny it, but underneath his rugged, manly exterior he has a heart of gold; I'm sure he'd be able to suggest something much more romantic than I could come up with. In the meantime..." Isabela strode over to her well-stocked shelves, deftly plucking out a few tomes from her collection and handing them to Merrill. "I think these might still be of use to answer your original request. Keep them, kitten. Consider it an inspiring Feastday gift."

"Um... thank you, Isabela," Merrill said, a little uncomfortably. Not that she wasn't grateful, of course not, but it was a little... awkward sort of a gift, after all. Her eyes widened as she suddenly remembered the present she had found for Isabela. "Oh! I have something for you too!" she exclaimed, slipping off the pack she had brought with her from her alienage home and reaching into a side pocket. "It's something I brought with me as a memento from my clan when I first came here. It's a painting of an aravel. I thought you'd like it."

"An elven landship!" Isabela exclaimed, unrolling the small, carefully rolled parchment Merrill handed her. "Oh, it's lovely! Thank you very much, kitten! It's perfect, I just love it."

"I'm glad," Merrill beamed at her. She tucked the books Isabela had given her safely into her pack, and then impulsively gave her tall human friend a hug. "Ma serannas, emma falon. Will I see you at Hawke's feast tomorrow?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Isabela smiled, affectionately tousling Merrill's soft dark hair. "Varric should be in his suite now, I think, if you wanted to ask him for advice?"

Merrill nodded and left, waving brightly at Isabela and earning herself a fond grin in return as she closed the door behind her and trotted down the hall towards Varric's rooms.

* * *

"Daisy!" Varric exclaimed as he let her in. "Just who I wanted to see."

"Really, Varric?" Merrill asked in surprise. "What for?"

"Oh, I've just got a little present for you," he said, his customary grin of affection lighting his face as he looked up at her. "It caught my eye at the trinket emporium in the market, and what with all the extra coin I have from all of Hawke's little ventures of late, I thought 'why not?' Just a sign of friendship for my favourite little flower." He reached into the pocket of his greatcoat, pulling out something small which he held in his closed fist. "Close your eyes and hold out your hand."

Merrill did as he bade her, the corner of her mouth turned up in a smile, and felt something small and cool pressed into her palm. It felt like a coin, but a bit more... pokey.

"Alright, open up!" Varric said jovially.

The little Dalish opened her eyes and looked down. A small jewelled broach lay in the palm of her hand, finely crafted into the shape of a daisy. It was _beautiful_. "Oh, Varric, it's lovely!" Merrill cried in delight. She fastened it immediately to the front of her tunic, right over her heart, and smiled at him widely. "Thank you!"

He shrugged a little, returning her a grin of his own. "Eh, I just thought it was a nice... thought. You know, Feastday and all. Usually I don't bother with all that nonsense, but well, I just wanted to get you a little something."

"It's very sweet of you, Varric," Merrill told him. Such a lovely gift! It was very encouraging; maybe Varric could help her think of something just as nice to give Hawke. "I brought a present for you too!" She rummaged in her pack for a moment and pulled out the flask of Antivan brandy she had asked Bodahn for; she'd heard Varric say how much he enjoyed it, then Hawke had reminded her of it when she mentioned it last night, and fortunately Bodahn miraculously had some in the little inventory he still kept from his days as a travelling merchant. Merrill handed the flask to Varric, enjoying the way her gift made his face light up.

"Oh-ho, Antiva City Quickflame!" he exclaimed, examining the label. "Puts a fire in a man's belly, this stuff. Thanks, Daisy! Corff never seems to listen when I ask him to get some of this in stock. Glad someone does."

"You're very welcome, Varric," Merrill told him, smiling. "Actually, I also wanted to ask you something, if that's alright?"

"Of course," Varric said, offering her one of his funny low chairs. "Ask away."

They were actually quite comfortable, Merrill decided as she sat down in one. Dwarven sized, of course, but at least her feet could actually touch the ground properly when she sat on them. It's too bad that there weren't any elven sized chairs in here, but then, she faced a similar problem anywhere but the alienage, so she was quite used to it by now. Still it was nice feeling like she wasn't too far off the ground for a change. Varric sat opposite her, grasping two little cups in his hand and pouring out a measure of his new brandy for her and himself. She took the one he offered her graciously, although she wasn't too sure she wanted to drink it; it smelled very strong, after all, and it didn't take too much of any sort of drink to make her feel very odd. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing, it could be very fun, of course. But she'd never gotten tipsy without Hawke around to make sure she didn't do anything too foolish. And she had other things to do today, after all.

"I just wondered if you could help me think of a Feastday gift for Hawke," Merrill said hopefully. "I don't know what to get her, but I think it should be something special. The trouble is I just can't think of anything, and Isabela said you might know, being in the Merchant Guild and all." She fingered her broach. "And this is such a lovely, thoughtful gift, after all. Can you help me?"

Varric rubbed at his chin, thinking. "Well, I don't know, Daisy," he sighed. "I'd like to, of course, but I'm afraid as far as I know, gifts are mostly given as a show of one-upsmanship, at least amongst the Guild. To gain prestige, curry favour, or just show off how much money each member has. And as far as your gift, well..." Varric shrugged, a little self-consciously. "That was kind of a one-off; I just saw it and thought of you. You know... because it's a daisy," he finished lamely.

"Yes, I know," Merrill said kindly, smiling a little in spite of her disappointment. She had hoped he might have some idea, but really she shouldn't expect him to know what Hawke might like better than she did, should she? It wasn't his fault. "I do like it very much, Varric. It's a very sweet gift."

"It surprised even me, to be honest," Varric admitted. It was an unexpected impulse, he remembered. He'd never even bought a gift for bloody betraying backstabbing Bartrand before, let alone received one from that black-hearted, nug-humping idol-stealing, bastard-sodding-brother of his. It just wasn't considered important in his family, so he was at a loss to explain what possessed him to get Merrill a present. He supposed it was probably the sort of thing he would have thought to buy if he had a little sister. In a lot of ways, Merrill filled that role in his life. He wished he could be more of a help to her. But come to think of it, Blondie had told him that he'd had his fair share of nice thoughtful gifts from his old commander, maybe he could help. "I'm sorry I can't be more helpful, Daisy," the burly dwarf told Merrill apologetically. "You probably won't like this suggestion too much, but Anders is actually kind of a sensitive soul when he doesn't have a stick up his backside or a blue demony spirit thing glaring out of his eyes. And more than once when he's been telling me his stories of his time with the Wardens, he's mentioned something or other that he was given by the Warden-Commander. He seemed to really appreciate whatever she got for him, since he won't shut up about it and all. Maybe try asking him what makes a good gift?"

_The Warden-Commander?_ Merrill thought. _That would be Mahariel, wouldn't it? When Anders was still with the Wardens, he served under her. I remember him saying so a lot._She wondered where Mahariel learned what would make a good present; certainly she wouldn't have gotten much practice at it amongst the clan. But perhaps she learned a lot from her travels with so many humans. Humans liked gifts. Even if Isabela couldn't help her, maybe Anders could, if he wouldn't mind talking to her. She might have to get him an extra-nice present to encourage him, though. And she thought she knew just what she could get him. She even knew exactly where to go to get one, though she didn't very much feel like braving the marketplace again. Still, nothing else for it.

Merrill took a polite sip of her drink and coughed as the fumes went up her nose. "You're r-right, V-varric," she managed. "Maybe he can help me. No harm in trying, anyway."_Unless Justice comes out and attacks me, or something. Or if I step on something sharp on my way to Lowtown. _She set her glass down and rose from the low chairs, picking up her pack. "Thank you, Varric."

He raised his own glass in a toast to her as she left. "Anytime, Daisy. Good luck."

* * *

As odd as it was, Merrill was feeling quite proud of herself, really. She'd found what she wanted to give Anders at the Lowtown markets, as well as gifts for nearly everyone else (except for Hawke of course, sadly), despite the mad hordes of late Feastday shoppers trying to do the same. And she had managed to get all the way to Anders' clinic by herself without getting lost more than twice. So far it had been a very successful trip to Darktown, if there could be such a thing. That didn't stop her from being just a little panicky about talking to Anders on her own, especially since she knew very well that she wasn't exactly his favourite person in the world. Nor that of the spirit in his head, either. Still, she had to try. And even if he couldn't or wouldn't help her, it would still be nice for him to get a Feastday present, wouldn't it? And she had a feeling he would like this present very much indeed.

Walking into the clinic, she was glad to see she had managed to come at a not-too-busy time. There were only a few people inside, and mostly they were sitting beside patients who were obviously resting after just being healed; Merrill could feel the residual traces of magical energy lingering in the air. Anders was standing at the very back of the clinic, his back to the entrance while he sat at the splintery crate he used as a desk, writing something. His manifesto, Merrill supposed. He always seemed to be writing it, if he wasn't tending to patients, or following Hawke about, or giving Merrill sanctimonious lectures about the difference between spirits and demons. Maybe he could just write her a manifesto about it and save them both the trouble; even he must get tired of repeating himself after a while, surely. But then, perhaps her gift to him would distract him for a while. Hopefully, anyway,

She walked up quietly behind him, and cleared her throat nervously. "Anders?"

He didn't turn around, clearly concentrating very hard on whatever sentence he was writing. "Merrill? What is it?" he asked absently. "I'm a little busy."

Well he was certainly busily writing, Merrill could see that. But surely it wasn't so terribly important that he couldn't pause for a moment, if only to look at her at least. It would be polite, after all, and it probably wouldn't kill him... Merrill pushed away the resentful feelings that sprang into her heart at his dismissive attitude, trying to remember that she was here to ask him advice, after all. Which most likely he would be reluctant to give her. And it wouldn't be very much in the Feastday spirit if she smacked him across the back of the head. Not to mention she might drop his present if she did that. "I just... wanted to-"

"Do you need healing?" Anders interrupted brusquely. "Hawke could probably handle it, whatever it is. She's quite a good healer, really."

_Better than you_, Merrill thought crossly, but bit her tongue. "No. It's nothing like that. I just wanted to give you something. For Feastday, and all."

Anders paused at last, and turned in his seat to look at her... and then his amber eyes widened in astonishment at the sight of the small grey tabby kitten fast asleep in the crook of Merrill's arm.

"Is... is that for me?" he asked, his tone suddenly uncharacteristically soft. "Where did you...?"

"He's one of those little strays from the market," Merrill answered. "I know you miss Ser Pounce-A-Lot, and this fellow won't replace him, exactly... but he still needs a home."

Anders tore his gaze from the sleeping ball of fur and raised his eyes to hers. "Why?"

Why was she giving him a gift was what he meant to ask, Merrill knew, not why did a stray kitten need a home. "Because it's Feastday," Merrill answered simply, not feeling the need to explain every one of her reasons. She gently cupped the kitten in her free hand and scooped him up, holding him out to the staring ex-Warden in front of her. "Do you want him?"

The kitten woke at the movement, and twisted its tiny head to peer up at Anders, blinking bright green eyes at the human towering over him. He yawned, and then reached out with a tiny paw, batting lazily at the feathers on the shoulder of Anders' coat. A smile appeared on the man's face, replacing his normal overcast expression and bringing a rare light into his eyes. He took the kitten gently from Merrill's hands and held the small creature to his chest, where it snuggled in close and fell back asleep.

Anders looked up at Merrill, feeling touched and contrite. He couldn't see why she would make such a gesture, especially to him of all people. He hadn't exactly been a friend to her for many reasons, none of which were entirely fair, he knew. "I... don't know what to say," he said awkwardly. "I just... don't..."

"It's alright, Anders," she said with a small, wry smile. "You needn't say anything. Although, I would like to ask you something, if that's alright?"

He looked at her and nodded, hardly able to refuse. "What is it?"

"Well..." Merrill began slowly, wondering how to put her question delicately. "Varric said you told him that when you were with the Wardens, your Commander would sometimes give you gifts. That was Mahariel you meant, wasn't it?"

Anders nodded again. "Yes, she gave us all a little gift or two from time to time."

"What sort of things did she give you?" she pressed, and hastened to offer an explanation for her eagerness when he raised a questioning eyebrow. "I'm asking because among the Dalish, exchanging gifts is not a common practice. I'm just wondering how she knew what sort of things you might like."

He thought for a moment. "Well, in my case, I suppose she listened to all my boring little stories about life in the tower and such. That's why she gave me Ser Pounce-A-Lot; because I told her how I missed a cat I befriended in the Circle that ended up possessed by a demon." He gave her a strangely pointed look, and Merrill read his unspoken message; _See,_ _it could happen to absolutely anybody, no matter who or what they are._ Then he frowned a little, stroking the ears of his new feline charge somewhat absently. "Poor Mr Wiggums..."

Merrill nodded slowly, considering his words and thinking she understood. And it was helpful advice, of sorts. It was just that even though she knew so many of Hawke's stories and the things she liked, she still couldn't think of anything Hawke didn't already have, or that she couldn't simply buy for herself if she really wanted it. And she didn't really have time to go around looking in barrels and crates and things in case the perfect gift for Hawke was randomly lying somewhere on the ground. Still, every little piece of advice helped. "Thank you, Anders."

He inclined his head, gently stroking the soft ears of his new charge. "Certainly. Why did you want to know, if I may ask?"

"Oh..." Merrill paused, thinking. She had been hoping to avoid telling him she was looking for tips on a Feastday present for Hawke; he always got a bit funny about anything to do with them being together. Wanting to protect his friend from the little blood mage, Merrill supposed. Which wasn't a nice thought, but at least he was motivated by concern for Hawke's wellbeing. Misplaced concern of course; Merrill would never hurt her, not on purpose, but still. "I was just... wondering how someone learns how to give presents. I want to give Hawke something perfect, you see, but... I just can't think of anything."

"Well..." Anders scratched at his stubble, looking uncomfortable. "You seem to have gotten the idea on your own." He indicated the kitten in his hand. "You listened to my tales about Ser Pounce-A-Lot, and decided from that I might like a kitten, for example. And you were right. This is... a wonderful gift, Merrill, and... much more than I deserve. I suppose you just need to do the same thing for Hawke."

Well, that was just as helpful as it wasn't. "That's just it," Merrill said quietly. "I can't think of anything. I know so much about her but it still doesn't help."

"Well, maybe you need the perspective of someone else close to Hawke," Anders suggested, and shrugged a little. "I don't have any ideas for you, I'm afraid, but perhaps Aveline can help. She has known Hawke the longest of all of us, after all."

It sounded like a good idea. Certainly it was better than nothing, anyway. Merrill thought it over and nodded, though she sighed a bit on the inside. She never knew presents were so complicated. It had to be after midday now; Aveline was probably at the Keep. Well, that was a safe bet at any time unless Hawke needed her for something. "Thank you. I'll go and ask her now, I think."

"Good luck," he wished her, giving her something very close to a smile before glancing down at his new little companion, still nestled against his chest. "And... thank you, Merrill."

She smiled. "You're welcome, Anders."

She left him deeply absorbed in the tiny kitten and walked out of the clinic into the damp Darktown street. As strange as it might be, she was a little reluctant to leave. The ground here was filthy, strewn with refuse and broken glass, yes, but even so the hard packed earth underfoot was much kinder and forgiving than the cold stone of Hightown. Elgar'nan, even wearing shoes with soles, she could still feel the chill right through the leather, and it was such a long way up to the Keep... There was nothing else for it, though. She needed to get going if she was going to have time to actually get Hawke a present, once she figured out what it could be.

_Mythal preserve me_, Merrill sighed to herself. _My feet are going to get very cross with me by the time this is over._

* * *

Aveline wasn't in her office. Merrill earned herself a few suspicious glances as she walked through the barracks looking for the elusive Guard-Captain. She probably couldn't blame them, though; likely all they saw was a strange wild elf wandering about the halls of the Keep for no apparent reason with a large pack slung across her shoulder. No wonder they wanted to keep an eye on her, she must have looked rather a lot like a thief. Not a very good one, to walk about so brazenly in the middle of the day attracting so many stares. And she must look very out of place. But still, it was an odd feeling. Usually no one noticed her at all when she came here with Hawke. Except for that once when a rude nobleman in the petitioner's hall imperiously ordered her to get him a drink 'like a good little knife-eared wench'. He found himself face-to-face with a very irate Hawke, and apologised very soon after that. She hadn't seen him back here since, come to think of it.

Finally, after what seemed like a very long time spent lost in the labyrinthine hallways, she ran into Guardsman Donnic. Not literally, although she came very close to it; she really hadn't expected anyone to come marching so briskly out of the barrack's mess hall doors after all. But he was very nice to her as always, kind-hearted man that he was, and he told her that Aveline wasn't in the Keep at all. She was outside, overseeing the training of the new recruits. He even showed her the way, smiling his slightly shy smile as she thanked him sweetly and giving her a courteous bow before returning to whatever errand he had been about before he found her. _He really is a good man,_ Merrill thought happily as she walked out into the sunny practice yard in the heart of the Keep. _It would be very nice if he and Aveline could be together, and she really seems to like him, now that I think about the expression on her face whenever he's around. She looks so lovely when she's very nearly smiling. _Hopefully Hawke's book of courting tips would help them, at least a little.

She spotted the flame-haired warrior across the yard and started over, making her way past lines of heavily armoured guardsmen and women engaging in mock-duels and practicing sword drills with one another. Aveline was watching a group of recruits with longbows practicing their shots at the archery range against the far wall. Moving down the line of aspiring archers was none other than the heir-claimant to the throne of Starkhaven himself, Sebastian Vael, giving suggestions and advice in his soft northerner's burr, correcting a grip here and there, praising a well-aimed shot. _Aveline must have asked him to help out with training sometimes_, Merrill reasoned. _She might not like him much, exactly, since she thinks of him as an 'entitled type' and all, but she is never one to turn away skilled help when available. She's very sensible that way, and Sebastian is a very good archer, anyone can see that._ Still, it was a little unexpected that he was here. A good thing she had remembered to get him a small present as well, just in case.

"Aveline?" Merrill said to announce her presence.

The Guard-Captain turned, fair brows lifting in surprise at the sight of the small Dalish. "Merrill? What are you doing here?" Her mouth turned down in a worried frown. "Did Hawke send you? Is there trouble?"

"No, no!" Merrill reassured her, waving her hands before her to emphasise the negative. "I was just bringing you something is all." Without further ado she opened her pack and pulled out a pair of bracers made of shining steel and bearing an etched motif of snarling warhounds. Merrill had seen them at the armourer's stall in Lowtown, and had thought they were just perfect for Aveline, since she was a warrior, and a Fereldan, and so fond of Hawke's brave old mabari; always petting him, and bringing him mutton, and taking him on outings to the Keep to chase new recruits around. "Putting the fear of dog into them," Hawke happily called it. It sounded awful, but, well... somehow, secretly, Merrill found it very funny when she pictured it in her head.

She held the bracers out to Aveline. "Um... Merry Feastday, Aveline. For tomorrow, you know."

Aveline stared at Merrill for a moment, apparently at a complete loss, and then her face softened, a half-smile turning up the corner of her mouth. "Oh!" she said, sounding very surprised. She reached out and took the bracers from Merrill. "Well, thank you very much, Merrill. This is... unexpected."

"I know," Merrill said. "And I know it isn't Feastday, not just yet, and that it isn't wrapped or anything, but I got Isabela a present because I wanted to ask her what I should get for Hawke, and then I thought it would be nice to just get presents for everyone, but there wasn't time to wrap them up all nicely so you could open them. And... well, I came to give yours to you now because I'm hoping you can help me with something?"

Aveline opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Sebastian as he came over to them, noticing Merrill's presence at last.

"Merrill? I didn't expect to see you today. How do you fare?" he asked courteously. "Well, I hope."

She smiled at him. "Oh, yes, I'm very well, thank you Sebastian. I didn't think I would see you here, either." She drew his little gift out of her knapsack and offered it to him; a miniature, very detailed rendering of the grand palace of the Princes of Starkhaven that she had found in the market. She wasn't sure if he would like it much, but she hoped he would. "Here, I got you something. For Feastday, you know."

Sebastian looked down at the small figurine in the palm of her hand, a look of surprise coming over his features. He reached out and took it gently from her hand, holding it up to examine it with over-bright eyes. He looked at her and smiled his gratitude. "Thank you," he said quietly, but with feeling. "This is... wonderful. Thank you very much, Merrill."

She smiled back. "I'm pleased you like it." Or he very much seemed to, anyway. She was a little afraid that it might be too strong a reminder of what he had lost and was fighting to regain, but then, she also thought that his situation was a little bit like that of the Dalish, in a way, driven out of his rightful lands and all. But the Dalish cherished any relic or reminder of Arlathan or the Dales that they could get their hands on. She thought maybe Sebastian might have felt the same, and she was very glad indeed that he seemed to like it.

"I do," he said with quiet fervour. "It's nice to have a memento of the place where I grew up; where my grandfather ruled. I am truly very grateful. I only wish I had a gift to give you in return."

"Oh, no, that's quite alright," Merrill protested. "I don't need anything, really. It was fun for me to find presents for everyone, that's enough for me. I needed more practice at it."

"Well, you have done a magnificent job with this," Sebastian told her kindly. "I am indebted to you, my lady."

A recruit called out for Sebastian's help behind him before Merrill could protest again, and he bowed, excusing himself gracefully. Aveline watched him go, and turned back to Merrill. "So," she began as though their conversation had not been interrupted. "You wanted my help with something?"

"Oh!" Merrill exclaimed. "Right. Yes. Um... I was wondering if you had any thoughts on something that might make a nice present for Hawke. Since you've known her the longest, and all."

Aveline gave her a quizzical look. "Why would that make a difference?" she asked. "As long as I've known her, and good friends though we may be, you have greater cause to know her more... er... intimately than any one of us. Why do you feel you need my help to find her a gift?"

"Well, it's just..." Merrill said, stuttering a little in a bout of sudden nervousness. Aveline's eyes were just so intensely glare-ish, even when she didn't mean for them to be. "I'm stuck, I suppose. I can't think of anything that would be good enough for her. Nothing she couldn't get herself, anyway. Can't you help me?"

"From what I saw just now, I can't see why you wouldn't be able to think of something," Aveline answered. In truth, she didn't know why Merrill was having so much trouble, but from what she knew of the girl, she suspected that she had been getting in her own head so much about it that she couldn't see her way out and clear. The best way she could see to help her was to get Merrill to fix her problem on her own. And after all, if Merrill was truly looking for a meaningful present for Hawke, then that was really something she ought to come up with by herself. Besides, Aveline had never been much of a sentimental sort. Maybe she did still carry Wesley's shield, but it wasn't just to remember him by, or to carry a piece of him with her, or anything like that. It was a good shield. Still, the fact remained that the best help Aveline could be to Merrill was to encourage her to help herself. Perhaps with a little praise thrown in for good measure. "These bracers were a very thoughtful present, Merrill, and your offering to Sebastian even more so. You know Hawke better than anyone, and you are a sweet and caring person, anyone can see that." Aveline put a gauntleted hand on Merrill's shoulder and squeezed gently, a comforting gesture. "Just think the same way you did when you chose these gifts, and you'll do just fine."

Merrill nodded, though inside her heart sank a little. She knew there was wisdom somewhere inside Aveline's words, and she was probably right, it was just... telling her to think of something was all very well, but that's what _everybody_ kept saying, and it was what she had been trying to do. And even though her presents seemed to be good ones because of the way she thought about what to get, so far that way of thinking had worked for everyone except Hawke. Why was it so hard for her to think of one perfect thing to give the love of her life for Feastday? There was so little time left..."Alright," she said, trying not to sound dejected. If she was getting no help here, she might as well be on her way. "Thank you, Aveline. I'll try. See you tomorrow, then."

Aveline gave her an encouraging nod before turning back to her recruits. Merrill made her way back out through the twisting halls of the Keep without getting lost even once, which would have surprised her if she'd been paying attention. Instead, her mind was consumed with confusion, and not a little panic. It was getting very late in the day, and she still hadn't been able to come up with a single idea. Still, at least she'd managed to find gifts for everyone else, even Fenris...

Merrill frowned, suddenly realising that she hadn't actually given his gift to him yet. Mythal, she hadn't actually considered how she would actually go about giving it to him, either. She wasn't certain he would appreciate it very much after all, not from her. But the more she thought about it, the more she felt she couldn't leave him out.

At the bottom of the stairs to the Keep, she turned left, her sore little feet reluctantly taking her in the direction of the noble estates towards Fenris' mansion.

* * *

A few minutes later Merrill hovered on the threshold of the rundown old manor house, engaged in a fierce but silent debate with herself. She wanted Fenris to have his gift, of course she did... but she also really didn't very much want to see or talk to him at all, either. It was a little cowardly, perhaps, but not unreasonable, considering his opinion of her. And his dangerously volatile nature. Not to mention she was alone, of course, and she often made him very angry without meaning to. What if he got cross that she would try to give him a present? She couldn't see why he would, really, but he was a little... unpredictable. Maybe... maybe she could just give it to him quickly and then go home. Or maybe even leave it on his doorstep?

That was a much more appealing thought...

"What are you doing?" Fenris's distinctive deep toned voice rang out right behind her before she could make any sort of decision. She jumped and span about, hiding her hands behind her back to conceal his gift from him. To no avail, unfortunately.

Fenris glared at her suspiciously."What is that?" he demanded of her.

"What?" she asked him, stalling for time to think of a way to escape from this awkward situation without accidentally showing him his gift. Or just escape from the awkward situation. A bit hard for her to do, though since he was blocking her like that...

"Behind your back?" he insisted, a note of impatience in his gravelly voice.

"What do you mean?" she asked, trying to sound innocent, and glanced behind her. "It's your house, isn't it?"

His mouth tightened in annoyance. "I mean that I want to know what you are holding. In your hand. Behind. Your. Back."

Oh, dear, now he was getting cross. She should have realised this wouldn't be a very good idea, coming here to bother him at his house, all alone, knowing he was suspicious enough of her as it was to begin with. And now he was just getting even more suspicious and angry, his sharp green eyes narrowing at her while she stood in foolish silence in front of him and oh, why couldn't she have just waited to give him his gift tomorrow, with everyone else there? Or not given him a gift at all? He would never have noticed or cared if she had gotten him a present or not, anyway! Merrill hesitated, and then sighed. There was nothing else for it; she would have to show him. Creators, this was embarrassing. Not to mention it would ruin the surprise of his gift. She put her hand out in front of her and opened her palm, revealing the small black runestone bearing a glowing silver symbol.

His eyes widened as he saw it. "One of the strange dwarven boy's enchantments?" He had seen the damage and destruction that Sandal's strange creations could wreak. Was she trying to lay a trap for him? "You were trying to spell me, witch?" he accused angrily, fists clenching at his sides, his markings began to glow faintly as he fed his rage.

"No, no!" Merrill denied hurriedly. "It's not an enchantment! It looks like one, because I copied what I've seen Sandal do, but it isn't one at all. It's just a stone carved with an elven word, which I put a spell on to make it glow, like you. It's not dangerous, though, it's not even lyrium, I didn't think you would like that at all. It's... a gift. That's all..." she trailed off as he stared at her incredulously, feeling foolish.

"A... gift?" Fenris lost his glow and took a small step toward her. She held her ground; he now appeared curious and confused rather than murderous, so she thought it would be alright. Hoped, anyway. "Why would you want to get me such a thing?"

"Well... for Feastday," she answered hesitantly. "Hawke invited you for the feast, right? And she has a present for you. I just thought it might be nice if I got you something too."

He stared at her for a very uncomfortable fraction of time and then glanced down at the stone in her palm. "I... see," he said at last. "And you thought I would like this... rock. If it isn't an enchantment, what is its purpose?"

"Um..." Merrill thought for a moment. She hadn't really thought about that. "Decoration?" He looked at her with a raised eyebrow, and she attempted a wry smile. "For your house, you know. Or your rooms, at least. You can put it on a shelf or table or something. Sometimes it's nice just to have things to look at in your home, even if they don't really have any sort of function. Like art and... things."

Fenris gave a small scoff beneath his breath. "And under which category does this item fall?" He studied the runestone again, peering at the brightly shining symbol carved into its gleaming surface. "You said this... lettering... was elven?"

"Yes," she replied quietly. "It is the runic inscription of the word 'revas'."

"And 'revas' means..." he prompted, his words an impatient drawl.

She hesitated only for a moment before answering. "Freedom."

Fenris looked up at her in surprise. _Freedom..._

Conflicting emotions surged through him at her quiet words, and despite himself he couldn't silence or ignore them. He felt confused by her gesture and yet strangely... touched, an extremely unfamiliar feeling. But he was also somewhat unreasonably annoyed that she would bother him like this. Not only that, but that she would continue to try and make him feel something for his elven heritage, a heritage and a history that he didn't give a fig for. _Revas... Freedom..._ Why should he let himself be moved by such a thing? Why did she even want to give him a gift in the first place? Had he not made it clear that he had no wish to be friends? An unwelcome and uncomfortable feeling of shame grew within him. That she could be so kind to him, despite all the reasons he gave her not to be... Why? How? She must want something from him, but what? In his thoughts, he ungraciously likened her to a puppy, trusting to the point of foolishness, ever hopeful for kindness from anyone and everyone, even those from whom she had received nothing but disdain in the past, even cruelty. How was it that she could be so like the foul, unfeeling magisters with her use of filthy blood magic to secure power for her people over all other races, and yet be so unlike them? So... so oddly innocent, and determinedly kind-hearted and compassionate even to those who least deserved it, like him. It was... extremely irritating. Oftentimes the little witch made him question his views and beliefs almost as much as Hawke, and he did not like that in the least. And now this gift... freedom, carved in stone, the word a bright light against the darkness surrounding it... It was... nice, he supposed, and... thoughtful. But uncalled for, and he truly wasn't able to comprehend her motives. His suspicious mind raced to find other reasons for her unexpected gesture. Why was she _really_ giving it to him? Was it secretly spelled for some sort of revenge, despite what she said to the contrary? Or was it an attempt to... obligate him, incur a debt somehow? To what purpose?

He reached out gingerly and took it from her palm. The magic she had used to make the rune glow resonated with the lyrium in his skin, but it didn't feel dangerous, or harmful in any way. It felt... a little calming, in fact. Soothing. It was... nice. Very well. If it wasn't a trick, then perhaps she was trying to make him owe her something. He couldn't have that, not from her. He could refuse the gift, of course, toss it back in her face, but strangely enough, he... he wanted it. It spoke to him.

_Revas... freedom..._

Something in return, then. Yes. That would make them even, and alleviate any debt between them imposed by her strange, unknowable impulse to give him a gift for a largely human-celebrated holiday.

Merrill stepped quickly to the side as Fenris brushed abruptly past her, the runestone clenched firmly in his gauntleted fist, and then she winced as the door to his mansion slammed behind him. Well. That hadn't gone particularly pleasantly. She should have thought he would be suspicious of anything that looked like magic. If she'd had more time to think about it, she'd have gotten him something much different. Something much more innocent and boring. A basket of fruit, or some sugar cakes, or a nice still-life or something...

_It could have gone a lot worse, though, _she reminded herself as she started to turn away. _He took the gift, after all. And he didn't threaten to rip my heart out or anything. That's progress, isn't it?_

She jumped again and whirled on her heel as the door suddenly burst open behind her. Fenris strode over to her, his face set and determined. _Oh, Mythal protect me..._ She fought the urge to back away as he approached her and thrust something into her hands. Looking down in surprise, she saw it was a book. Old, and a little mildewy in one corner, but otherwise it was not in too bad condition.

"Here," the former slave said shortly as she took the tome from him. "You are a scholar, are you not? You... like books. Take this."

She glanced at the title, and smiled a little. _Verses of Dreams; Poetry inspired by the Fade._ Likely he had gone inside and simply grabbed the first tome from the first shelf he saw without even bothering about what sort of book it might be, but still... it was unexpectedly appropriate. She would quite enjoy reading this. Once she had cleaned it up a bit, of course.

"Thank-" she began, looking up, but he had was already striding away, going into his house without a backward look. She understood, of course. Feelings were very difficult and uncomfortable for Fenris, so he must find sentiment just as awkward. That he could manage even this much was nice, and sort of encouraging. _And very good for the Feastday spirit in general_, she thought.

She noted the darkening shadows gathering about her and looked up at the sky. The sun was almost set now, twilight slipping silently into the cool embrace of night. And she still hadn't managed to find any ideas for Hawke. It was far too late now, though. Merrill would just have to make it up to her another year, as disheartening a thought as that was.

She gave a small, sad sigh and began to head home.

* * *

Leandra looked up from her seat before the fire as Merrill came in, the mabari sitting quietly at her feet as he watched over the sleeping Feathers who was dozing quietly in his basket. The elegant human woman smiled gently at the sight of the little elf. She was such a treasure, and she made her daughter so very happy. Leandra would be forever grateful to Merrill for that. "Back at last, Merrill dear? Were you successful?"

"Not really, no," Merrill answered a little unhappily, walking over to her. "I couldn't find anything. Is Hawke back yet?"

"No, dear, not just yet," Leandra informed her. "She ought to be back soon, I should imagine. So you couldn't find a gift at all?"

"Not for Hawke. Though I did manage to get things for everyone else." She held out Leandra's gift to illustrate her point; a bunch of lavender, freshly picked and sweet-smelling. "Merry Feastday, Leandra. I'd have given them to you tomorrow, of course, but they're just so much lovelier when they've only just been picked."

"Oh, sweetheart, thank you!" Leandra smiled, taking the flowers. She held them up to her nose and inhaled deeply. "They're lovely."

"Well, you said you liked lavender," Merrill offered shyly. "I thought you would think they were nice."

"I do," Leandra assured her. "I love them, sweetheart." She gave Merrill a shrewd look. "Did you pick them out of the Ahrenberg's gardens, by any chance?" The little Dalish nodded, biting her lip, and Leandra chuckled appreciatively. "Even better."

"Thank you," Merrill said, smiling a little. "I'm glad you like them. I just wish I could have found Hawke something. She said she didn't need me to get her anything; that she just wants me, but... I still wanted to get her something, but I couldn't think what. I don't know why. Maybe I just don't understand this present-giving business very well."

"My dear girl, that just isn't true," Leandra chastised gently. "You did well with me, didn't you? And found gifts for your friends. Did they like them?"

Merrill thought back. "Yes," she realised. "They all did, at least I think so."

"And when choosing what to get them, did you think about what you knew about them, and the sorts of things you knew they liked?" Leandra continued. "And that led you to the right gifts?"

The elf nodded. "I think so, yes," she said.

"Well, then, you're better at gift giving than most people," Leandra told her. "The perfect gift for anyone needn't be expensive,extravagant, or grand. It just needs to be something that that shows you know the recipient well enough to get them something that will make them happy. And what makes my daughter happier than anything?"

Merrill smiled bashfully, realising what Leandra was leading up to. "Well... me," she admitted quietly. "I do."

"Exactly." Leandra smiled fondly at her. "Really, love, if I know my daughter; that alone is more than enough for her. But if you still want to give her something, I think I may be able to help." She rose and beckoned to Merrill as she crossed the room and walked up the stairs to the bedchamber wing. "Come on, dear. There's something I want to show you."

Merrill followed curiously as Leandra headed into her sleeping quarters, wondering what it could be. If only she hadn't been confused about what Hawke meant earlier this morning, then she could have asked Leandra for help before, instead of traipsing all over the city. But then, she probably wouldn't have gotten gifts for everyone else, and that would have been a shame, since they liked them so much, and all. She recalled herself to the moment as Leandra went to a wardrobe on the far side of her room, searching for something within. She pulled out a cloth-wrapped package from the interior and set it down on her lace-curtained four post bed, and then opened a small, beautifully crafted wooden jewellery box. Taking something carefully from one of the little drawers, she held it lovingly in her palm as she made her way back over to Merrill.

"I thought I might as well give you your gifts now too, sweetheart," Leandra said, indicating the slightly bulky-looking package on the bed, and holding up her closed hand between them both. "But I must ask that you keep this one just between us, for the moment." She opened her fingers. In her palm lay a small golden ring, unadorned but lovely in its simplicity. It shone in the light from the fire in Leandra's hearth.

"Oh, it's lovely!" Merrill exclaimed.

"It was given to me by my husband, Malcolm," Leandra said softly. "On the day we were wed."

Merrill looked up in surprise, and not a little confusion. As yet she was still unaware of the human tradition of exchanging rings as a symbol of marital commitment and love. But she did know that this pretty little ring must carry a great deal of sentimental value for Leandra, if it was given to her by the father of her children, after all. Surely it would mean so much more for Hawke to have it. "Then... why are you giving it to me?" she asked tentatively. "Isn't this something you should give Hawke instead?"

Leandra smiled. "Well..." she began quietly, "I rather thought perhaps you might like to give it to her one day." She pressed the ring into a bewildered Merrill's unresisting palm. "But you mustn't do it until you truly understand what it would mean for you to offer her this ring."

"But... but when will I know when that is?" Merrill asked, her puzzlement unabated.

"You will know the moment," Leandra assured her. "Until then, I trust you to keep it safe, close, and secret from my daughter."

Well, she didn't very much like the idea of keeping secrets from Hawke. That had never gone very well when she'd tried to do it before, after all; Hawke always found her out in the end. But this didn't seem like a bad sort of secret, did it? "Alright," Merrill nodded, and carefully tucked the ring away in the secret little pocket on the inside of her beltpouch. "I promise I will, Leandra. My word on it."

"Good." Leandra smiled at Merrill, and turned to the bed where the unopened package still lay before them. "Now to your real Feastday gift. I said I could help you with something nice to give to my daughter, and..." She glanced at Merrill, blue eyes twinkling with quiet mischief. "I believe that this will do nicely as a gift for both of you. And it will be quite a nice surprise for her, if all goes well." Merrill reached for the package with curiosity and mounting excitement as Leandra gestured for her to open it. "Let's have a look at it, dear, and then I shall tell you what I have in mind..."

* * *

_The day went fairly well, _Hawke decided as she happily surveyed the scene before her; all her family (except for Gamlen) and closest friends gathered in one room, celebrating Feastday together. _It went well all things considered, at any rate. No demonic attacks, no terrible disasters or earth-shattering matters of any kind, for once. Quite a nice change really._ And indeed everything had gone surprisingly smoothly, in fact. The feast preparations in the kitchens went without a hitch, with nothing forgotten, or dropped, or suddenly and unexpectedly catching fire. Bodahn had relinquished control without too much protest, just as he promised, and Merrill and the good old mabari managed to keep Feathers from coming in to provide his own particular brand of 'help'. Leandra had created lovely place settings and decorations as usual, and everyone arrived on time; a Feastday miracle. Her gifts had been very well received indeed, although Fenris had at first appeared a little uncomfortable with his book. She hadn't quite known why until he took her aside and confessed with some shame that he could not read, because slaves in the Imperium were not taught how. She wished she had known that, or she would not have given him what must have seemed an insensitive gift, though he seemed to appreciate it when she offered to teach him. He even came very close to smiling as he accepted her offer, with a slightly embarrassed but strangely hopeful look in his eyes. She was glad to be able to help him; reading was both a skill and a pleasure that everyone ought to be able to enjoy. She had even received some gifts in return, and not just from her mother, although the new clothes Leandra had commissioned from the tailor Jean Luc were really very nice indeed, and well suited to her style, for a change; a set of good quality, not unbearably fancy leather breeches; a matching tunic with minimal silver embroidery and light, well-concealed protective padding to make the clothing practical in a fight; a pair of tough, well made boots; and a rich black cloak, purely for 'adventuring', Leandra had assured her. A very pleasing gift, all told. Though her mother had also let it be known that that wasn't the _only_ gift she planned to give her daughter. Hawke's second gift, Leandra had quietly informed her, was that once the feast was over she planned to go to the de Launcet's evening Feastday party. Why this qualified as a gift, Hawke had been somewhat unable to fathom, but had no time to ask what her mother meant as Aveline had chosen that moment to very graciously (and pointedly) present her with a somewhat frighteningly large and intimidating-looking tome, _The Complete "People's Laws of Kirkwall". _Or as the resolute Guard-Captain referred to it, a "friendly reminder". Isabela and Varric's gifts had been in the same vein, in a way. Varric had given Hawke a painstakingly hand scribed copy of all his fanciful tales about her to date, bound up into one big volume just for her. Isabela had decided to go with the written word for her gift as well, with her very own handwritten book; _A Hundred and One Uses for a Phallic Tuber. _Hawke personally thought that was a hundred too many. Not that she didn't appreciate the sentiment, of course, after all, wasn't it the thought that counted? It certainly seemed that Merrill had given quite a bit of quick thinking into her own gift giving as well. Hawke was really quite impressed to learn of it, especially when Anders arrived with his new little tabby kitten riding happily on his shoulder, delighting everyone. Except perhaps for Fenris, who sneered a little at the sight (though Hawke had a strong suspicion that it was merely a reflexive cover on his part), asking the ex-Warden what foolishly sentimental name he intended to give to the flea-ridden little creature. To which Anders had merely smiled, replying that he had decided to name it after Fenris and call it 'Elf', on account of its green eyes, and pointy ears. And of course the stripes. Hawke had seated the both of them at opposite ends of the table. Which she felt was a wise decision, really.

The feasting had just about wound down. They all now sat around the dining table; her mother, Merrill, Isabela, Varrric, Fenris, Aveline, Sebastian, Anders, everyone; all talking quietly and sipping at their drinks as they let the fine banquet they had all partaken of settle comfortably. Hawke looked across the table, strewn with the half-empty platters of food, to where Isabela and Merrill sat together, examining the ship in a bottle. The tiny elf appeared to be attempting to explain (with endearingly animated gestures) what Hawke had told her about how such things were made, while Isabela listened in amused fascination. Hawke smiled and rose to walk around the table towards them, pausing only to take the small package she had hidden earlier from a cabinet at the edge of the room. It was time for her gift to Merrill now; Hawke had wanted to wait and give it to her while everyone was a little distracted so that Merrill couldn't feel that too much attention was on her. The Fereldan apostate knew very well her shy little Dalish lover would have been very uncomfortable with that. She crouched by Merrill's side, running her hand along the elven woman's forearm to gain her attention, though she hardly needed to. Merrill was instinctively aware of Hawke's movements wherever they were. She smiled as Merrill broke off her conversation with Isabela to beam sweetly at her. Isabela grinned and winked at Hawke, and then struck up a chat with Varric across the table, trying generously to give them both a bit of privacy for their little moment.

"I've got something for you, love," Hawke said softly, and laid the little package gently in Merrill's lap.

The young Dalish smiled with grateful sweetness, eyes shining, and unwrapped it eagerly, revealing a small, perfectly carved halla stag, its magnificent head thrown back as though in majestic challenge, one tiny hoof pawing at the ground.

"Ooh, Hawke, it's lovely!" Merrill cried softly, holding it up in delight. She examined every inch of it, stroking the intricately carved patterns of the animal's fur, fingering the fine points of its beautiful twisting antlers. Her eyes met Hawke's. "Did you get this from Master Ilen?"

"I may have taken a little trip to the Dalish camp yesterday," Hawke admitted. "You recognise the craftsmanship?"

"It looks like his work, I thought it must be," Merrill said, a note of nostalgia in her voice. "He's always carving halla out of bits of scrap." She gave a little laugh. "Before we left Ferelden, he had so many the Keeper said he'd need ten _real_ halla to pull his carved ones north..." Merrill clapped a hand over her mouth as her excited words got away from her. "...and I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"Maybe a little," Hawke chuckled fondly. "But I don't mind. If anything you're reminding me of one more reason I love you so much. You're adorable when you're flustered."

Merrill giggled, blushing. "Ma serannas. I'll find a good place for this. It's perfect Hawke, really. I love it to pieces." What a wonderful thought! Especially considering the effort Hawke must have gone to; traipsing all the way up Sundermount to the Dalish camp all on her own, braving the stares and poorly concealed hostility that the clan would surely have directed towards the shemlen suddenly in their midst, all so that Hawke could bring her this lovely memento of her old home, her family... She laid her palm gently against Hawke's cheek, and leaned in to kiss her sweetly on the lips, then smiled into her lover's wondrous eyes as she drew back. "Thank you, ma vhenan. I have a gift for you too, but I will give it to you later, when... um..." Merrill glanced around at the others, all of whom had finished their conversations without their notice and were now unabashedly watching the exchange between the two. She shook her head at them fondly, and then turned back to Hawke, lowering her voice a little. "When we're alone."

"Sounds like she's got something _special_ for you, Hawke" Varric said with a grin. When the pair of them turned their half amused, half annoyed glances on him at his unapologetic intrusion into their romantic little bubble, he raised his glass in an irreverent toast. "But hey, what do I know, I'm just a humble storyteller. To life, to love, to food, drink and Feastday! Maker bless us, every sodding one!"

* * *

With everyone gone home for the night, the Hawke mansion had a strangely subdued air after such revelry. Still, it was a peaceful kind of quiet. Apart from the clattering of plates and silverware as Hawke attempted valiantly to clear up the residual Feastday chaos in the dining room by herself. Whether going up against bandits and slavers, or beef and potatoes; her friends certainly knew how to make a spectacular mess.

"Alright, my darling, I'm just about to head out to the de Launcet's evening Feastday party, just as I promised," Leandra announced as she came into the room, looking for Hawke. She smiled lovingly at her daughter, kissing her on the cheek in farewell. "The animals are abed. And I told Bodahn and Sandal that they could take the night off to go and see one of their old acquaintances in the Merchant Guild quarters. Insisted upon it, in fact."

"Ah, I wondered where they had disappeared to," Hawke commented wryly as she stacked a load of plates onto a tray.

"You may thank me later," Leandra replied mysteriously, and laughed quietly under her breath when Hawke gave her an inquisitive look. "I'll be going now, then. I expect I shall be out... quite late. Have a good night, and don't wait up for me," her mother instructed with a sly smile. She waved her hands dismissively at the clutter on the table. "That can wait until tomorrow, dear. I'll help you in the morning. Why don't you go and find Merrill? You hardly got to see each other at all yesterday, not to mention today, with all the preparations and the company. It would be nice if you were able to spend a little time alone on Feastday, don't you think? Just the two of you?"

She gave her daughter a knowing smile and left, footsteps fading as she headed for the entrance hall. _Ah, so that was why Mother considers going out to a party such a wonderful gift for me_, Hawke deduced wryly. _Well, when she's right, she's right._ Why in Andraste's name was she wasting time clearing up when she hadn't had more than a moment alone with Merrill all day? Strange how it was possible to be in the same room with someone and still manage to miss them. It needed only a moment's thought before she abandoned her self-appointed task, leaving the dining room without a backward glance in search of Merrill. Entering the parlour, Hawke saw that their bedchamber door was open, a small elf-shaped shadow flickering on the wall, and smiled.

"Merrill?" she called as she mounted the stairs to the bedchamber wing.

"I'm here, ma vhenan," came the sweet, lilting reply, and Hawke entered the bedroom. She closed the door behind her, turned... and froze abruptly in place, wide eyed in surprise at the sight before her.

Merrill stood before her in the centre of the room, utterly resplendent in a set of lovely armour, crafted after the elven fashion but in shades of soft white and shining silver. Intricate pauldrons inlaid with elegant designs evoking elven script protected Merrill's bare shoulders, and an elaborately moulded breastplate hugged her middle, perfectly sculpted to fit Merrill's every curve. Hawke could only stand silently and stare. Maker's breath, it was exquisite, _she_ was exquisite... A glint of light caught her eye, and she saw the set of fine silverite chainmail folded neatly on a side table. _Well... it makes sense that such armour would come with an accompanying set of mail for more risky situations_, Hawke noted absently in some foolishly practical corner of her mind. _Though I must admit I am very happy she isn't wearing it just now. _Her eyes lingered on the tantalising amount of slender leg she could see beneath the armour skirt, and she barely suppressed a moan of longing. _Very, very happy..._

"Leandra had it made for me," Merrill said, words coming fast in the beginnings of a bashful ramble. "When she took me to see her tailor, that Jean Luc fellow who makes clothes for her. And you, when she tells him to. And me, now, I suppose. It's... supposed to be a present for you too. She helped me dress and said to wait here, that the sight of me alone would be the perfect gift for you. Though I'm not quite sure why." She glanced down at herself, and ran a hand self-consciously through her short dark hair. "So, um... what do you think, Hawke? Do you like it?"

_Maker, yes,_ Hawke wanted to say. _You're beautiful_. She wanted to cry it from the rooftops, and sing it to the stars. _Utterly, utterly spellbinding, my little raven-haired temptress. Oh, just look at you..._ But the words got lost on the way to her mouth. Instead, she walked silently over to Merrill and took her in her arms, cupping the back of her head and capturing delicate rosy lips with her own. The elven girl twined her slender arms about Hawke's neck and returned her kiss with everything she had, and more.

"So..." Merrill gasped in a momentary break for air. "You do like it then, ma vhenan?"

"Mmm..." was the only answer she received as Hawke kissed her again, deeper this time, and with mounting passion. _I'll take that as a yes_, Merrill thought distractedly as she returned Hawke's attentions with equal fervour.

Hawke wrapped strong hands about Merrill's lithe waist and lifted her, the tiny elven woman wrapping her legs tight around Hawke as she was carried across the room. The human mage nipped at Merrill's ear, making the elf shiver with pleasure as her lover lowered her down to the hearthrug, where Hawke immediately turned her attention to the little leather straps and buckles keeping the armour maddeningly in place. She freed the elf from her coverings piece by shining piece as Merrill tugged just as impatiently at the clothing so inconveniently concealing Hawke's body from her sight, both kissing and stroking and nipping hungrily at each other as they lay down together in the warm light of the fire...

* * *

_"... and then a sudden strange unexplainable darkness swept over the scene in the brilliant and hitherto vivid and incredibly detailed story, leaving a specific portion of the tale to be filled in entirely by the audience's imagination," Varric intoned wryly. "As indeed the listener in question requested at the very beginning."_

_A soft impatient tut of annoyance followed his words. "You didn't have to ruin the tone so completely, Varric," Cassandra said, frowning a little._

_The dwarven rogue cocked his head at her, looking somewhat cheekily pleased with his own cleverness, and more than a little smug. "If I didn't know better, Seeker, I'd swear you were disappointed."_

_"I can appreciate romance," the Seeker said, lifting a brow at him as a small smile played over her lips. "Occasionally. When it is called for."_

_"H-hm," Varric chuckled. "Well, then in that case, I think I can provide some for you..."_

* * *

"Merrill," Hawke said softly as they lay together in front of the fire, spent and gazing into one another's eyes. They had never made it to the bed, but the plush hearth rug and the gentle warmth of the fire as well as the loving embrace of the other was all either of them needed to feel utterly content and at peace with the world.

The little elf raised her head from Hawke's shoulder and looked into her eyes, blinking drowsily. "Mmm?"

Her soulmate gave her a soft, warm smile. "I love you."

Merrill smiled too, the expression in her eyes a mix of love and mischief. "And what is that in elvish?" the former First asked her, trying to sound like the Keeper teaching a da'len; stern, but kind and gentle all at once.

Hawke blinked slowly, utterly entranced by the way the firelight threw shining golden glints into the emerald eyes of her beautiful elven lover. "Oh..." she said softly as she finally registered Merrill's question, and thought for a moment. The human woman smiled as her quick mind offered her the answer. "Ma'arlath."

"Very good, ma vhenan," Merrill praised her, resting her head back down and pressing closer to the warmth offered by Hawke's exquisite form. "I love you too."

"I love you more," Hawke countered with sleepy playfulness.

"Oh, no," Merrill giggled softly. "I don't think that's possible. I think we love each other just the same, then. That's the logical conclusion, don't you think?"

"Well," Hawke conceded. "I can live with that."

They lay in blissful quiet until Merrill's lilting voice gently broke the comfortable silence. "Hawke?"

"Mmm?"

Merrill raised herself up again so that she could look into Hawke's beautiful face. She smiled, stroking her cheek with slender fingers, letting them trail along her throat and down further until they rested gently against Hawke's chest, feeling the steady rhythm beat comfortingly against her palm. "Merry Feastday," she whispered quietly as she leaned slowly in. "My heart."

The human mage accepted the gentle, loving kiss Merrill placed on her waiting, eager lips, and smiled warmly as the elf drew back at last. Hawke lifted a hand and placed it over Merrill's where it lay on her chest, and raising the other, pressed it over Merrill's own heart in turn. Blue eyes gazed deeply into green as Hawke opened her mouth to speak.

"Ma vhenan, na vhenan," she whispered softly, watching as the emerald eyes widened, then brightened with unshed tears of joy at the loving elven words;

_My heart, your heart._

"Oh, Hawke..." Merrill cried softly, burying her face in her lover's warm throat and closing her eyes, letting the steady sound of Hawke's soothing heartbeat lull her into the embrace of the Beyond. "You're so _wonderful_."

"I'd be nothing without you," Hawke told her, meaning every word.

"And if you hadn't come to Sundermount that day..." Merrill murmured back, drowsiness already creeping into her sweet voice. "I can't imagine where I'd be now."

Hawke smiled, feeling Merrill's breathing grow steady and deep. "I think we would have found each other anyway," she replied softly. _Or at least, I'd like to believe so._ She held Merrill close as the little elf fell asleep, wondering at what she could have possible done in her life, in any life, to be so blessed with the beautiful soul in her arms. It just didn't seem to Hawke that any good deed could be enough to make anyone worthy of someone as sweet and wonderful as Merrill. But even if it was some sort of cosmic mistake, she would spend her whole life trying to deserve her.

"Merry Feastday, ma sa'lath," she murmured quietly, and allowed sleep to take her softly into the Fade, joining Merrill in her dreams.

* * *

_Varric rested his hands on his knees as his tale drew to a close. "And so ended the happiest and most romantic Feastday either one of them had ever had," he said with cheerful finality. "The end." He surveyed his captive audience with a speculative gaze, noting the small appreciative smile gracing Cassandra's full lips. "Did that story meet with your approval, Seeker? Learn anything useful?"_

_Cassandra blinked, taking a moment to register the end of the tale. "About the Champion?" she asked with deliberate nonchalance, adjusting her shoulders a little to ease them where she leaned back against the cold stone mantle. "I may have gleaned a little more about the workings of her mind, and those of her companions. Even yours. That is what you meant, yes? Or was there a different moral to your tale?"_

_"There may have been," Varric answered. "Maybe not a moral so much as... a reminder."_

_A well-sculpted eyebrow lifted inquisitively. "A reminder of what, pray tell?"_

_Varric drew himself up in his chair, his expression suddenly serious. "That whatever you want Hawke to do for you, whatever you hold her responsible for, whatever you believe we may have done... I guess I wanted to remind you that we're just people," he answered, meeting the Seeker's gaze steadily. "People who fought together, laughed together, cared for one another. And apostates or not, no one I have ever met care about one another more than Merrill and Hawke, and still manage to have so much love for everyone around them. They're good people, Seeker. The best I've ever known, the best kind that can exist. I've never heard of two people with so much capacity for love and compassion. So maybe I told you this tale because I want you to remember that. If you do ever succeed in finding Hawke and Merrill, that is." Varric held Cassandra's gaze for a long moment, and then shrugged abruptly, quirking his lips in a grin. "Then again, maybe I just wanted to reminisce and regale a pretty woman with a cheerful Feastday tale."_

_"Hm," Cassandra murmured quietly, and glanced at him with the beginnings of a wry smile. "Or perhaps it was a little of both."_

_Varric chuckled. "Perhaps it was."_

_The Seeker stayed unmoving for a few moments more, eyes hooded as she committed the details of Varric's tale to memory, and then she straightened abruptly, pushing away from the fireplace. "Thank you for the tale, dwarf," she said. "I will think on what you've said." She met his gaze. "All of it. But for now, I believe that is enough for one evening. We shall resume tomorrow, and you will continue where you left off in your tale of the Champion before we began discussing Feastday."_

_The dwarf inclined his head. "As you wish, Seeker."_

_"I will leave you to your respite," Cassandra announced, pacing briskly across the room towards the doorway. "I will have someone bring you food and drink shortly. Rest well, dwarf." As Varric made his way over to the rough pallet set up for him beside the empty fireplace, Cassandra turned at the door and looked back at him. "And Varric?" she said, sounding somewhat hesitant._

_Varric grinned to himself as he lay back comfortably on the pallet, already looking forward to continuing Hawke's tale tomorrow. Cassandra wasn't such a bad audience really, murderous glares and death threats aside. An attentive, genuinely interested listener who was easy on the eyes, well, what more could a storyteller ask for? "Yes, Seeker?"_

_She hesitated, but only for a moment. "Merry Feastday," she muttered as though the very act of speaking the words was about as pleasurable as pulling teeth, and then turned about and left abruptly._

_"And to you, Seeker," Varric replied as the door closed behind her. "And to you."_

_The dwarven rogue chuckled softly as her brisk footsteps receded down the hall, thinking of his friends, wherever they were, thoughts lingering longest on two in particular. He glanced out of the high narrow window to where a scattering of starlight pierced the black veil of the night beyond. To Varric's mind, it became a wonderful poetic image of unwavering hope in the face of bleak and desperate times. Darkness surrounded light, but could never extinguish it._

_"Hawke," Varric murmured softly to himself, gazing out of the window to the world beyond. They were somewhere out there, he knew, roaming together, inseparable as always. "Daisy. Wherever you two are, I'm praying it's someplace sunny and free of Templars. Not that I'm the praying type, exactly, but..." He sighed heavily. "You know what? Maker bless us. I kind of get the feeling we're going to need it soon. Merry Feastday to you both."_

_He crossed his arms comfortably behind his head, letting himself indulge in comforting thoughts about the absent friends he held dearer than family. Even if he wasn't the religious sort... it wouldn't hurt to say a prayer for them. Since it was Feastday soon , of course. It would be... in the spirit of the season. And all that. So... well. Why not?_

_"Maker bless us, everyone."_

* * *

The End

* * *

_Yes, Maker bless us, every one! Merry Feastday to one and all. Wishing you all a wonderful Christmas, and a happy new year. Or maybe at this point, just a happy new year. Or, whenever you read this, maybe just have a nice day. Or night. Or whatever. Just... have a good one._

_Credit goes to Bioware and the dragon age writers for the creation of these wonderful characters and worlds, and to TSLi for the idea to have Merrill decide to look amongst Isabela's library for a way to please Hawke. Hopefully that was something along the lines of what you meant, but if not, let's just say there's a whole lot of room left in AWWS for Merrill to do a bit more dirty book browsing as needed ;p_


End file.
